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Entry tags:
- adrian veidt,
- alayne stone,
- aragorn,
- brian kinney,
- charlotte "chuck" charles,
- eames,
- erik lehnsherr,
- hatter,
- irene adler (2009),
- ismene,
- jack kelly,
- jaye rinnark,
- josias st. john,
- murphy pendleton,
- niklaus mikaelson,
- quinn fabray,
- robb stark,
- sawyer "soysauce" sciarrino,
- seraphim dias,
- sirius black,
- taylor "tyke" kee,
- tommy conlon
003 ♕ video
[ Her father has inquired on the matter of coin and the ship's answer is clear enough: money has little weight aboard the Tranquility and so the counting of coppers must be abandoned for a different kind of ledger keeping. Favor is a kind of currency, though only the most clever know how to wheedle it to greatest yield and best effect. Petyr Baelish is one of those kinds of men — to what extent is hidden behind his genial smile, but Alayne has seen behind her father's mask and knows the true measure of his mettle.
Where names and lands and titles made the worth of a man in Westeros, the passengers of the ship must find their wealth elsewhere: in skills offered and objects bartered, in resources hoarded. In usefulness. Alayne looks to be useful but also looks to be wealthy, if not in object then in favor. It is better, her father teaches her, to be owed than to owe and such debts can be accrued in both the most meaningful and the most harmless of ways.
The smile she gives the Tranquility is modest and fair. She is in better health than her last appearance and her spirits seem much revived. With a dip of her head she bows and then offers to the camera: ]
My good Tranquility. It has become known to me that there are those upon the ship who are in need of the skills of a seamstress. I am not a tailor by trade, nor have I studied under the tutelage of any grand stitch-sewer. But I am skilled and there are those who have told me my embroidery is without flaw.
I may sew a dress or fashion a shirt or mend what has been ruined and torn. There is the matter of needles and thread, of which I have been provided plenty. Though— cloth is lacking, save bedsheets. I am also skilled in the stitching of sigils. Of finery and delicacy. [ Her smile broadens, grows sheepish and knowing. ] For ladies and lords that find luxury in smaller, more mindful details.
I, Alayne Stone, offer my skills to the ship, in exchange for trade or equal favor. [ A pause and then she considers, adding: ] And— if anyone has insights into the care of birds, please also send word.
[ Again a smile and Alayne dips a second time, neatly. ] Thank you.
Where names and lands and titles made the worth of a man in Westeros, the passengers of the ship must find their wealth elsewhere: in skills offered and objects bartered, in resources hoarded. In usefulness. Alayne looks to be useful but also looks to be wealthy, if not in object then in favor. It is better, her father teaches her, to be owed than to owe and such debts can be accrued in both the most meaningful and the most harmless of ways.
The smile she gives the Tranquility is modest and fair. She is in better health than her last appearance and her spirits seem much revived. With a dip of her head she bows and then offers to the camera: ]
My good Tranquility. It has become known to me that there are those upon the ship who are in need of the skills of a seamstress. I am not a tailor by trade, nor have I studied under the tutelage of any grand stitch-sewer. But I am skilled and there are those who have told me my embroidery is without flaw.
I may sew a dress or fashion a shirt or mend what has been ruined and torn. There is the matter of needles and thread, of which I have been provided plenty. Though— cloth is lacking, save bedsheets. I am also skilled in the stitching of sigils. Of finery and delicacy. [ Her smile broadens, grows sheepish and knowing. ] For ladies and lords that find luxury in smaller, more mindful details.
I, Alayne Stone, offer my skills to the ship, in exchange for trade or equal favor. [ A pause and then she considers, adding: ] And— if anyone has insights into the care of birds, please also send word.
[ Again a smile and Alayne dips a second time, neatly. ] Thank you.
[ ooc note; open to individual action threads for Robb, Bran and Petyr. ]
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[ Cause that's where ravens come from, natch. ]
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Which citadel?
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They are bred by the maesters of the Citadel — for in the Seven Kingdoms there is only one. And they are loosed only when summer comes to an end. So I suppose some ravens are never given chance to take wing, given how long the last summer was.
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[ Citadel, Seven Kingdoms... Eames doesn't particularly follow much at all insofar as placing her, but he'd much rather keep the conversation going than necessarily dig too deep at this point. He's already noticed that some people here come from very different backgrounds, as though compiled of fantasy and imagination - like that batty Crow. ]
That sounds rather terrible, doesn't it?
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We are born into lots in life, [ she says, carefully, making her words seem uncertain even though Alayne knows them to be true. A lady, a bastard, a king — each title was a station and each station was a cage. ] The Citadel crows are meant to fly at the coming of winter and not before.
Terrible, perhaps, but also true. Though— just because something is terrible does not mean it cannot cease being so.